the story of an hour

image julia galdo

"when the storm of grief had spent itself she went away to her room alone. she would have no one follow her. there stood, facing the open window, a comfortable, roomy armchair. into this she sank, pressed down by a physical exhaustion that haunted her body and seemed to reach into her soul. she could see in the open square before her house the tops of the trees that were all a quiver with the new spring life. the delicious breath of rain was in the air."

from my very favorite short story, by kate chopin, the story of an hour